


Infant

by Todesengel



Series: Overs-verse [5]
Category: Voltron: Lion Voltron
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-04-04
Updated: 2004-04-04
Packaged: 2017-10-22 16:13:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/239966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Todesengel/pseuds/Todesengel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They came up with the Rule when Pidge was fifteen. Problem is, he's twenty now and they still see him as the Infant.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Infant

Long before they ever found Voltron or crashed on Doom or lost Sven to a sword’s thrust and a blond Princess, but right before they set off for their first training mission together, Hunk had called a group meeting and they set down the Rules--or, as Lance liked to call them in the privacy of his head, ‘Things to Do to Make Sure We Don’t Kill Each Other Before Someone Else Can’ because he’s a little afraid. For the most part the Rules were simple, common sense sort of things: keeping the common areas clean, not being too loud when engaged in jealousy-inducing sex acts, staying out of the shower when Keith was in it because Keith would have a defcon 1 freak out and there’d be blood and broken bones; Hunk giving ample warning before feeding any of his culinary experiments to the others; that if anybody touched Lance’s jacket or borrowed his clothes, they would find themselves tied to a chair in the all together and forced to listen to bad 20th century pop music. Pretty simple rules that everybody already knew because they’d all worked together before--just never as a unit of five.

After the meeting, though, when Pidge had scurried off to his last classroom-class of his Academy life, Hunk stood in the doorway and glared at the other three guys and growled out, “If I found out that _anybody_ \--and I mean _anybody_ Sven, so don’t glare at me like that--has touched the kid, I’m going to make you wish you’d walked in on Keith in the shower instead.”

Hunk loomed, because he was very good at looming and nobody was willing to mess with him when he did. He’d already seen action as a non-com, had been given a battlefield commission for ‘meritorious actions’ and sent back to Earth to learn how to be an officer. He was hard and he was tough and he had a soft spot for Pidge because he’d had to leave his little brothers behind.

People respected him, respected what he’d been through, bowed to his will because even though he’d killed people he was still a nice guy and didn’t throw his weight around too often. So Keith and Sven nodded, because they were old with cynicism. But Lance couldn’t leave well enough alone, because Lance always became an obnoxious idiot when he was thrust into a new situation and afraid.

“So, what, no high fives?” he said, being intentionally obtuse.

“You know what kind of touching I mean,” Hunk said. “He’s only fifteen. He’s just a kid.”

“So, what you think he’s old enough to go up into space and kill people, but not old enough for sex?”

“No. But I don’t get a say in that sort of thing. I do, however, get a say in this. So. Don’t even think about sleeping with Pidge, because I _will_ kill you. I will kill you and defile your corpse and nobody will ever find you.” Hunk glowered and Lance decided that now was as good a time as any to be cowed.

“Fine. Okay. No sex with the Infant. I got it.” Lance threw his hands up in defeat and that was that. And for five years, through numerous, safe, predictable training missions and then that one last one that got them all lost in space until they hit Arus and Voltron, Lance didn’t even _once_ think about throwing Pidge down and ripping his clothes off and introducing him to the joys of anal sex. In part, this was because Hunk really would kill him if he did, but mostly because Pidge was still the Infant to the four of them--had been ever since that meeting, thanks to Lance, but they’d never call him that to his face. Because then Pidge would get pissed off and pout and as much as they would hate to tell him, it made him look more like a child than anything else. And Lance was firmly convinced that when Pidge was eighty and surrounded by fat grandchildren, Lance would _still_ think of him as the Infant.

So for five years in space Lance didn’t look at Pidge with any sort of sexual desire, at first because he spent two of those years with Sven and was quite happy. But even during the remaining three where he’d had random one night stands, first with Earth boys when he was still able to get them and then he had to make do with L.I.Ps for 6 months after they were stuck on Arus, he still didn’t touch Pidge, no matter how desperate he got.

It was amazing what a smile and a tour of a lion could get you here. Or what it had gotten him up until Keith had grabbed him by the ear and dragged him into his room and fucked him good and proper. Keith had made Lance scream, made him tremble and see spots and stars and fireworks, made him feel alive. And then, when Lance was pliant and trying to remember how to breathe, Keith had started to dress and told him in no uncertain terms that he was going to have to stop screwing the locals because Allura was getting some complaints.

Hell of a way to kill the sex-bliss.

That had been six weeks ago and Lance hadn’t had a piece of prime ass since. The selfless reason (well, as selfless as Lance ever got) was that Keith’s little lecture had opened up Lance’s eyes to the errors of his ways and he would forswear the vast untapped resources of Arus’ men folk. The actual reason was that Lance hoped that Keith would see his restraint as the aforementioned selfless act and would be so overwhelmed by the sacrifice Lance was making he would leap out of his clothes and into Lance’s bed and the castle would echo with Lance’s screams.

So far, Keith had been a less than willing participant in Lance’s grand plan to have mind-blowing sex. Of course at this point, Lance would have been ecstatic if Keith had been a _present_ participant. And yet, for all the frustration that he felt, Lance still didn’t think of Pidge when he began to bounce of the walls in frustration. He thought to take Pidge along as a drinking buddy and to complain and discuss the joys of anal sex but not _once_ did he make a move other than to reach across Pidge for the beer and give him a clumsy hug.

And now Pidge was getting frustrated because it had been five years and he was curious, damnit.

But all Lance wanted to do was drink, so at around three in the morning, Pidge undressed him and more or less poured him into bed then crawled in after him because he didn’t want Lance choking to death on his own vomit in the middle of the night. He wondered, briefly, about what would happen if he reached down and into Lance’s boxers and explored, whose name Lance would moan.

But he didn’t, because being treated as an adult at fifteen had killed the dreamer in him and though he had dark, secret hopes that it was _his_ name, he knew better. And he didn’t want to know who Lance dreamed about.

*

Lance woke to throbbing pain and the clear realization that alcohol was really and truly the most evil thing in the Universe. It pretended to be all nice and sweet and cuddly and then it turned into a vicious bitch with spiked heels and a whip, and Lance didn’t know the safety word so there was no way to make it stop.

He was only grateful that he didn’t need to get out of bed and puke because now, right now, he was having difficulty remembering if he had limbs. He knew, in theory, that he had legs and feet as well as hands and arms, and that if he gave it enough time his brain would remember what set went where. In the meantime, though, he wasn’t going to tempt fate and try to wiggle his toes and end up wagging his fingers.

He opened his eyes, slowly, because they felt like sandpaper. There was light in the room and he mumbled something and, hey, what d’you know, he had an arm at least and managed to get his over his eyes.

Yay for progress.

Another hand--someone else’s he was pretty sure--put pills in his mouth and gave him water. When Lance cracked his eyes open again and saw Pidge standing before him, wearing only boxers and looking sexy and glowing--though that was probably from the window he was standing in front of and not some sort of post-sex thing--Lance decided that of all the things he couldn’t deal with right now, this was number one on his list. So he closed his eyes instead and decided to sleep until he was one hundred percent back in his body.

Apparently, though, Pidge wasn’t having any of that. He poked Lance in the side. “Lance. Lance. Lance, Lance, Lance, LanceLanceLanceLa-“

Lance grabbed Pidge’s hand and squeezed. With his other hand he reached out and blindly felt around for Pidge’s face. He stroked him with slow, clumsy movements, fingers trying to find Pidge’s lips. “Shh. Shh. Quiet now.”

“No. Lance. Wake up.”

“Please, please. No shouting.” Lance squinched his eyes closed tighter and made little pleading noises with his mouth.

“I’m not shouting.”

Lance whimpered and curled in on himself, more for show than because it really did hurt.

“Fine.” Pidge sat down and Lance could feel Pidge’s eyes boring into the back of his head. But that was better than talking or moving, so Lance ignored him and went back to sleep instead.

*

When Lance regained consciousness again Pidge was still there.

“Lance,” Pidge said.

“What?” Lance growled. “What in the world could you possibly want of a dying man?”

“You’re not dying.” Pidge said. “And I want to experience first hand the joys of anal sex.”

Lance choked a bit on that one. “Great. Nice, Pidge. Is that any way to treat the dying?”

“You. Are. Not. Dying.” Pidge poked him in the side with every word as cruel emphasis. “But I’m going to keep annoying you until you agree to do what I want.”

“Fine. Yes. Sure. Anal sex. Now. Go away!” Lance buried himself under the blankets again. He still didn’t feel human and the pain had progressed from the still-drunk hangover pain into the kill-me-kill-me-now hangover pain. He was also pretty sure that this was all an alcohol-induced hallucination and not something real, so he felt perfectly justified in agreeing to whatever Pidge wanted.

“Good. Just remember that you promised. And you can’t take it back.” He poked Lance once more for good measure.

“Go away!” Lance cried.

So Pidge did.

*

The third time was, apparently, the charm because when Lance woke up he actually did feel like a human being. Plus he was alone, which probably meant that the fuzzy memory of Pidge requesting indoctrination into the world of gay sex was just a bad, bad dream and Lance wouldn’t have make good on his promise. Which meant that Hunk wouldn’t have to kill him. Feeling more secure in his world Lance went out and took a shower.

He came back wet and dripping and nearly had a heart attack when he saw Pidge sitting on his bed, naked and armed with condoms and lube.

“Fuck!” Lance choked out. He shut the door and looked for Pidge’s clothes. “Get dressed.”

“No. You promised.”

Lance rubbed his forehead and pulled his towel tighter around his waist. “Pidge, I can’t.”

“You _promised_ Lance!” Pidge began to pout and, well, perhaps there was still a little bit of alcohol left in him because what should have been young and childish was suddenly, desperately sexy. And he didn’t want to give in, but it had been _six weeks_ and that was way too long to be off the horse for a self-avowed sex addict like Lance.

“You’re too young,” Lance said, in a desperate effort to convince himself that this was wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong and he’d go straight to Hell for it. And it wouldn’t even be the normal Hell, but that special one his mother had told him about, the one for people who had sex with children and for little boys who played with themselves too much.

“I’m twenty, Lance,” Pidge said. “I’m twenty and I know you started screwing around long before _you_ were twenty. So why can’t I? What’s so wrong with me? Am I just ugly or something?”

His voice began to break and, God, that was sexy too. Sexy, sexy, naked twenty year-old Pidge with condoms and lube and begging. Begging! It was too much for Lance’s already frazzled hormones to handle and he get aroused. Rather quickly. And his dick was saying ‘forward, march! There’s some lovin’ to be had!’ to his legs and throwing a party with streamers and acting like it was the first day out of prison and it was more than any man could fight.

So he gave in to his dick--because, let’s face it, Lance had long learned just who was really in charge of the body--and he went and did the one thing guaranteed to make Hunk hate him for the rest of his very short life. And the worst part was that it wasn’t even spectacular because Pidge hadn’t ever done this before and Lance had to go slow, had to stop and let Pidge adjust and he had think about someone else’s pleasure for a change and it wasn’t what Lance really wanted. He wanted hot and dirty and fast, he wanted breathless, panting, screaming, painful sex because after six weeks he _needed_ sex like that, needed to feel slick and dirty.

So it wasn’t mind-blowing, but it was still sex and there was a lot of potential. Pidge had grown in five years, gotten taller (but not that much) and was lithe and hard and very, very willing. And Lance really, really hoped that Pidge was as horny at twenty as Lance had been because he was very willing to help Pidge find the special joy that is anal sex.

Except as he came down off of his sex-bliss and looked over Pidge--who was really looking too obscene for words, his hair dark with sweat, body flushed, still panting, with lush, sweet lips, eyes golden with pleasure, chest splattered with his own cum--Lance finally managed to make his dick realize _who_ they’d just indoctrinated into the gay sex club.

Even his dick had to agree that, well, they were pretty much fucked and not in the way they had hoped to be.

“Oh Jesus Christ. Oh sweet fucking Christ on a fucking cross. I just fucked the Infant. I de-virginized the Infant.” Lance sat up, ran his fingers through his hair, quickly removed the condom from his cock and threw it into the waste-reclamation unit. Maybe if he got rid of all the evidence, he’d be able to fool Hunk into thinking that this had never happened. Pidge was coming out of his own post-sex glow and beginning to get a pissy look on his face.

“Hunk is so going to kill me,” he said. He looked down at Pidge and, no, it was still Pidge and not a cute local boy masquerading as Pidge. “Hunk is going to cut my balls off with a Spork and add them to his collection and then he’s going to hang me with my own intestines and cut me into little bits and use my skull as a urinal.”

“Nice, Lance. Real great way to affirm my new found sexuality.” Pidge pulled the sheets away from his body. “And I’m not a fucking Infant.”

“No, see, you don’t get it.” Lance got out of bed and began to pace, his eyes a little wild. “There was a rule, back when you _were_ an infant. Sleep with the Infant and Hunk gets to kill you.”

“You mean _that’s_ the reason I had to wait so long?” Pidge was beginning to look seriously annoyed at this point and even in the midst of his minor freak-out Lance could still appreciate the adorableness that was Annoyed!Pidge. It was rather like looking at a tiny, pissed off kitten. “Well. I’m going to have to do something about this.”

“Pidge, it was for your own good.” Lance sat back down. “I mean, come on. If Hunk hadn’t made that rule I would have corrupted you far sooner. And trust me, the difference between nineteen and fifteen is _huge_.”

“Maybe, but the difference between eighteen and twenty-two isn’t. And twenty and twenty-four is nothing. You had three years, Lance. Three years and the difference in our age kept getting smaller and I _still_ had to beg you.”

“True.” Pidge still looked pissed and Lance had a secret soft spot for adorable fluffy things like annoyed kittens, so he leaned over and kissed Pidge, soft and gentle like the sex had been. And if Pidge had a few things to learn about sex, he had very little to learn about kissing.

Lance was really starting to get into it, ready for round two where he introduced Pidge to the joy of the blowjob when he realized, again, that it was _Pidge_ and he began to freak out again.

“No,” he said. “No, no, no. Maybe, maybe this was fluke.” He looked at Pidge and his dick said ‘fuck it. If we’re going out, we’re going out satisfied’ and he knew that it was no fluke. Because now that he’d readjusted his thinking about Pidge by five years, the thought of molding his own little sex kitten was nearly more than his instinct for self-preservation could take. It would have been more than he could take if he hadn’t been so afraid of Hunk.

“Maybe I can go get captured like Sven,” he mused. “Hunk wouldn’t follow me to Doom, would he?”

“Lance. Lance! Quit freaking out!” Pidge grabbed Lance and his little hands weren’t that little at all. “Hunk won’t kill you. Actually, Hunk suggested that _you_ be the one to teach me about sex.”

“Hunk said you should come to me?” Lance suddenly felt much perkier, especially when he decided to ignore the obnoxiously paranoid part of his mind that kept insisting that this was just Hunk’s way of justifying Lance’s death as payback for installing porn in Hunk’s lion. His ego was quite happy to be stroked, thank you.

“Stop being so smug. It’s only because Keith said he wouldn’t and I couldn’t possibly with Hunk.” Pidge didn’t like Lance when he was smug, mostly because a smug Lance was painfully attractive and Pidge didn’t want it to look like he had some sort of juvenile crush on Lance. He did, of course, but Lance and his ego didn’t need to know that. Instead, Pidge looked down at the mess on his chest and the sheets and wrinkled his nose. “Is it always this messy?”

“Yes,” Lance said. “Messy is side-effect of having two penises involved.”

“What, even with girls? When there’s you know, only the one penis?”

“Wouldn’t know. I’ve only had sex with guys.”

“Huh.” Pidge touched the cum on his chest and made a face. “I don’t know if I like the mess.”

“That’s only because you haven’t been cleaned up properly.” Lance pushed Pidge down and slowly licked Pidge’s chest clean, paying special attention to his nipples, trying to arouse Pidge for round two, because, well, if he _was_ going to go to Hell he was damn well going to enjoy himself first.

Apparently his nefarious plan worked because Pidge’s breath hitched and the flush that had started to fade came back with a vengeance. He moaned half-words and tangled his fingers in Lance’s hair. Blood pounded in his ears and, oddly, the thin membranes of his nose and it felt so delightful. So, so, so deliciously wicked and naughty and, and, and Pidge couldn’t think of any words to describe the feeling of Lance’s tongue against the hard curve of his floating ribs and the lines of his abs.

“So,” Lance said and Pidge wanted to scream because Lance had stopped doing devilish things with his tongue. “How do you feel about anal sex so far? Like it?”

Pidge gave an inarticulate mumble that was partly a growl and partly a moan and mostly need. He put his hands on Lance’s head and pushed down, lifting his hips as he did so, trying to find Lance’s mouth again. Lance laughed and licked the little ridge of Pidge’s hip.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

“Bastard,” Pidge muttered, but fondly. “Stop teasing.”

“Thing is,” Lance said, resting his chin on his arms which were comfortably crossed on Pidge’s belly. “Sex with guys? Highly interactive.”

Pidge got the hint and he rolled Lance onto his back and crawled his way down Lance’s body and if he didn’t have perfect technique, his enthusiasm and willingness to learn more than made up for it.

And maybe it wasn’t perfect sex, hot and dirty and full of cursing like Lance wanted. But it could be and it could be something new too, something sweet and nasty all at once. And Lance wasn’t surprised to find that he wanted to hang around and find out.

**Author's Note:**

> Again, slightly borked timelines. There was a point where I actually had all of the stories in this 'verse charted out (timeline-wise, I mean) and...yeah. Life happened and I forgot about them and then I retroactively Jossed myself and it's all a bit...screwy in terms of character age.


End file.
